I often speak or write about my life as a journey. Each large episode seems to be a leg of the whole journey. But lately this leaves me feeling like I cannot settle down and find a PLACE to BE.
Mike had expressed his appreciation to me for helping him feel like he was HOME after many years of being on his own and only having places to put his stuff and lay his head. It left me feeling unsure of my role in his feeling, but I excepted how he felt as good.
There is a part of me that wonders if I find that place of HOME if I will be near to the end of my life, like Mike was (unknowingly) when he found HOME. I know it is silly to even think about it in terms like that, but there is a swirling question of what the hell it all means. I yearn for calm and mellowness and comfort. I try to find it even while I journey.
My mother's illness progresses slowly. She is finding quality of life where she can. And she is Home.
